Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
Wallace Stevens
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Wallace Stevens
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First Girl
When this yokel comes maundering,
Whetting his hacker,
I shall run before him,
Diffusing the civilest odors
Out of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.
It will check him.
Second Girl
I shall run before him,
Arching cloths besprinkled with colors
As small as fish-eggs.
The threads
Will abash him.
Third Girl
Oh, la...le pauvre!
I shall run before him,
With a curious puffing.
He will bend his ear then.
I shall whisper
Heavenly labials in a world of gutturals.
It will undo him.